


Worst Job Ever (or What We Do In The Twilight of Austenland (of the Conchords))

by Dracothelizard



Category: Austenland - All Media Types, Flight of the Conchords (TV), What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: Comedy, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Ridiculous, capes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Murray decides the band should try again in the United Kingdom, Bret and Jemaine still have to get jobs to make ends meet. Bret ends up working in the Jane Austen themepark, Austenland, while Jemaine gets to be the scary vampire Vladislav in Twilightland down the road. Both themeparks are all about living out the romantic fantasies of its female clientele.</p><p>So obviously Mel wants a crossover visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worst Job Ever (or What We Do In The Twilight of Austenland (of the Conchords))

**Author's Note:**

> If you've seen Austenland, in this crossover Martin's entire character is an act, including his douchiness. 
> 
> If you've seen What We Do In The Shadows, in this crossover they're not actually vampires but actors pretending to be vampires.
> 
> If you've seen all three canons... the whole thing makes a bit more sense in the context of the story, I swear.

He sends in the application form on a whim. They’ve been deported from the US and Murray has had the genius idea of trying again in the UK, except they’re still penniless and unsuccessful and no one cares about their music any more than they did in 2005. He and Jemaine both have to get jobs, and quite frankly, working in some weird Jane Austen theme park is better than holding signs.

He’s invited to come to Austenland for an interview, and the sheer size of the place staggers him. It’s a huge estate, with a suitably impressive manor at the heart of it, along with a small forest, a beautiful garden and some stables.

The owner of the place is a woman in her forties named Mrs. Wattlesbrook. She is decked out entirely in Regency wear, from the shoes on her feet to the bonnet on her head and the curls sticking out underneath. She holds out her hand to him, and Bret guesses he’s meant to show her courtesy, so he bows his head and takes her hand to kiss it.

“Well done,” she tells him, looking pleased, as she takes a seat behind her desk. Her office, as Bret should’ve expected, is entirely fashioned in the style of the 19th century. He feels out of place in his scruffy jeans and panda t-shirt. Maybe he should’ve worn one of his nicer, button-down shirts. “So tell me, Brad –”

“Bret.”

“Brad.”

“Bret.” He smiles politely at her, since it’s not the first time someone has trouble with his name.

“Brent?”

“Bret.”

She is silent for a moment. “You know, if you were to work here, that’s not a period-appropriate name. Perhaps it’s best if you pick another already.” She pulls open a drawer and takes out a list, sliding it across the desk.

Bret looks down at the list. It’s very short, and all the names are boring. “I have to pick a character name? I can’t use my own?”

“Naturally.”

He scans the list again. “I’ll go for Martin.” It’s the closest to his own name, and he would rather be called ‘Martin’ than ‘Henry’ or ‘William’.

“Wonderful.” She puts the list back in her drawer, and takes out two sheets of paper he recognises as his application. “So. Martin.”

She flashes him a brief smile, and he nods. If this is going to be his character’s name, he may as well get used to it. “Yes?”

“What first attracted you to the position?”

“Its uniqueness, I suppose,” he says. “The ad asked for stable boys, and I reckon I can do that.”

Mrs. Wattlesbrook peers down at his application form again. “You say you have experience with livestock.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a shepherd for years in New Zealand,” he explains, and smiles.

“You’re from New Zealand?”

“Yes.” He’s pretty sure he put that in his form. “Is that a problem?”

“It shouldn’t be,” she replies. “Your accent sound British enough. Our guests are mostly from the United States, they’ll probably think you have some sort of regional English accent.”

“Right,” he says, because while he’s used to people assuming he’s, well, from anywhere but New Zealand, it’s still annoying. “Anything else?”

She leans forward, and folds her hands under her chin, studying him. “The beard,” she says. “How attached are you to it?”

“Uhm, very?” He strokes his facial hair self-consciously. Besides, if he has to shave it off, he’ll have to explain that to Jemaine. And somehow he doesn’t think he’ll be impressed by him working in a Jane Austen theme park.

“Hmm,” she says, and leans back. She’s silent for a long while, then tilts her head. “Actually, for a stable boy, the short beard might work. It’ll set you apart from our romantic leads.”

That has been something he’s been worrying about. “I won’t need to play a romantic lead, do I?” he asks.

She smiles. “Not for the first few performances, no. But perhaps, in due time… there are a few packages where I have been thinking about adding a romance with a servant.” Her eyes travel up and down his face again. “You might be very suitable for that, Martin. Would you object to romancing one of our guests?”

“Will there be a script?”

“Oh, of course.”

“Then it’s fine,” he lies. He probably won’t get the job anyway, and even he does, there’s no way a paying guest to a Jane Austen theme park is going to go for a romance with a servant.

***

Bret is pushing some hay around pointlessly, in case any of the guests get lost and end up in the stables. Apparently lying around on the hay and taking a nap breaks the illusion too much.

“Oh no.”

He turns around at Jemaine’s voice, and immediately looks around for other staff members. Jemaine, standing there in his modern clothes and comfy jeans, would definitely break the illusion. “You’re not supposed be here,” he grumbles, then drags his friend into the stable, where the only ones who’ll see them are the horses.

“You said you had a job at a theme park,” Jemaine says, eyeing Bret’s Regency costume with a frown. “I thought you’d be in one of those mascot costumes, dancing around like a bear or something. You look like an idiot.”

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t tell you where I was working,” Bret replies. On the whole, a mascot costume would be preferable. Definitely comfier than the tight, scratchy trousers he has to wear now.

“You’ve been gone for over a week!”

“We have to live in the park, it’s part of the immersive experience.”

“I thought you had a terrible theme park-related injury,” Jemaine tells him. “And you barely responded to my messages.”

“We’re not really supposed to use smartphones. Breaks the illusion.” He does anyway, because hanging around while the romantic leads walk around the gardens with the guests is incredibly boring. “Anyway, how did you find me?”

“You asked Murray to send over your walkman and cassette tapes.” Jemaine hands him a plastic bag. “And I thought I’d see where you were working.”

Bret is overjoyed to be reunited with his walkman, since he’s learned that Regency music is not his thing. “Thanks, man!”

Jemaine looks him up and down again. “So your job is pretending to be Mr. Darcy, then?”

“No, I’m one of the stable boys, I’m not really supposed to be a romantic lead,” he explains. “Although they might slot me in next time.” Mrs. Wattlesbrook has been talking about possible scenarios with him, about his appeal as ‘a bit of a rough’ and the potential for ‘tumbles in the hay’, and Bret always excuses himself from those conversations by saying the horses need tending to.

Jemaine stares at him. “You? A romantic lead?” He snorts, and Bret feels annoyed at that.

“I could be a romantic lead.”

“You’re terrible with women, Bret.”

“Am not.”

Jemaine just looks at him. “Anyway, you should’ve just told me you were gonna live in a Jane Austen theme park, would’ve saved me a lot of worrying.”

Bret is about to explain that he was trying to think of a way to tell Jemaine without then being ridiculed, but they’re interrupted when Mrs. Wattlesbrook suddenly walks into the stable, and she freezes when she sees Jemaine. “Uhm, I can explain, he’s just a friend who wanted to come by for a visit,” he says, smiling at the older woman and hiding the plastic bag behind his back. “I’ll show him the staff entrance, none of the guests have seen him yet.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Wattlesbrook says, walking up to Jemaine. She studies him, then takes his chin and tilts his head so she can study his face. “Are you looking for a job? Your sideburns would be very suitable.”

Jemaine shares a worried glance with Bret, then looks down at Mrs. Wattlesbrook. “Suitable for what?” he asks.

She releases Jemaine, and steps back. “A rake, I should think. You’ll have to lose the glasses. We need another one of those ever since Edward took that tumble off his horse and broke his ankle.” She glares at Bret even though he wasn’t even working here back then. “I’ve got my nephew coming over in a few months, he’ll take over the stand-offish Darcy role, so we’ve got that covered. And you, Martin, we really need to go over the stable boy romance scenario. I’ve got a nice script written for you, and a suitable guest to try it with will visit us in a week.”

Bret is still reeling from that news, only listening to Jemaine’s conversation with Mrs. Wattlesbrook with half an ear. A romantic lead. Oh God no.

“The glasses are non-negotiable. I need those to see,” Jemaine says.

Mrs. Wattlesbrook huff. “They are completely period-inappropriate!”

“I still need them to see.”

“Then get contact lenses!”

“Oh, Jemaine doesn’t do contacts,” Bret says, because the last thing he wants is Jemaine working here, prancing about the gardens, while Bret’s meant to be romancing a guest. “Ever.”

Jemaine, having clearly realized this is his best way to get out of this, nods. “Hate the things.”

Mrs. Wattlesbrook sighs. “Shame. Well, maybe you should go to Twilightland down the road, they’re always looking for actors to be vampires, and they’re a little more modern than we are. Tell them I sent you.”

“I might do that, thanks,” Jemaine says.

Mrs. Wattlesbrook leaves, but not before telling Bret he has to come to her office when he’s finished up here.

“So,” Jemaine says, once she’s left. “Martin?”

“Apparently ‘Bret’ isn’t period-appropriate enough,” he grumbles.

***

Jemaine’s been working at Twilightland for a month now, and he’s enjoying it. His role as Count Vladislav is basically to be as cruel and mean as possible to the early twenty something women who book a stay in Twilightland, and then one of the other vampire actors rescues them from Jemaine’s evil clutches.

He gets to wear a cape and cackle evilly. It’s probably the best job ever.

“Jemaine?”

He looks up from where he’s been leafing through a book on medieval torture to find his boss in the doorway. Mrs. Meyer is a nice woman, and has been giving him loads of vampire novels for inspiration. “Yes?”

“I’ve just had a booking from someone, and they want you.”

“What?” Jemaine asks, frowning. Someone wants _him_?

Mrs. Meyer nods, then shrugs. “Yes, something about wanting to live out the fantasy of reforming a beast and winning someone’s heart when they’re clearly not interested in you.”

“But Count Vladislav is a 862 year old vampire who has killed and tortured hundreds of people,” Jemaine says. “For fun. His heart is dead inside after his human wife died in the 13th century.”

“I told Mel that, but she seemed really insistent on it,” Mrs. Meyer tells him, shrugging again.

Wait. “Mel?” he asks, hoping this doesn’t mean what he fears it means. “Er, what else can you tell me about her?”

Mrs. Meyer hands him a folder. “Oh, I’ve got her dossier right here, I figured you’d want to get started on your preparation.”

The first page of the dossier is a filled in questionnaire with likes, dislikes, favourite vampire novels and films, and which parts of the vampire lore the guest is into. It also includes a small passport-size photo of the guest.

It’s definitely her. It’s Mel. She has somehow found out about him working in Twilightland. Jemaine gulps. “Right. Thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a few days to discuss the further details,” Mrs. Meyer says, then leaves him to it.

He has to tell Bret _immediately._

***

The phonecall is mostly whispered, since Bret isn’t allowed to use his phone and one of Jemaine’s colleagues is having a romantic interlude with a guest in the room next door.

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“Positive.”

“What does she want?”

“To win my reluctant heart, tame the monster, and teach me to love again,” Jemaine says, having skimmed Mel’s dossier.

“Do you think she knows about me working at Austenland?”

“I don’t know. I hope she goes for you next.” Jemaine goes through her file again, and his eyes fall on the words ‘stable boy’. “Actually, I think she might. It says here that besides wanting to tame the monster she also wants a tumble in the hay and ride the local stable boy like a pony.”

“What does – wait, I’ll call you back, Mrs. Wattlesbrook is here.”

Jemaine hangs up, waiting and listening to the conversation next door. As usual, there is a lot of ‘you should stay away from me’ from the actor while the guest insists she’s not scared of him. A few minutes later, Jemaine phone vibrates and he picks up. “Bret?”

“She knows.”

“Oh. What does she want?”

“She wants a crossover,” Bret explains. “Between Twilightland and Austenland. I have no idea how she got the money, those are very expensive. Anyway, she wants a sexy vampire and a sexy stable boy. At the same time.”

Jemaine shudders. “How are we gonna get out of this?”

“I’m not sure we can.”

***

His colleagues aren’t entirely as sympathetic as Jemaine hoped.

“It seems like a fun challenge, I wish someone wanted me to be their vampire,” Viago says. It’s simply easier, Jemaine has found, to think of everyone as their character’s name. It means they’re less likely to mess up. “I’m getting kind of tired of being the nice one.”

It’s true that Viago’s role in Twilightland is more paternal and brotherly, but one of the vampire actors has to be the one who can give the guest the necessary exposition and a nudge in the right direction.

“What I don’t get,” Deacon adds, his knitting needles clicking furiously, “is why she went for you.”

“Or me.” Nick is their most recent addition. Like Deacon, Nick is a bad boy vampire and a love interest for the guests. Deacon is for the guests who want more of a traditional, old-fashioned vampire while Nick does the guests who want a modern vampire.

“I don’t know either,” Jemaine says. He hasn’t mentioned that Mel is a stalker from the States, because the entire story is crazy enough as it is. Besides, he has played Viago, Deacon and Nick some of his and Bret’s songs, and they weren’t impressed. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Just let the boss write you a script, Vladislav, you’ll be fine. She’ll figure something out,” Viago tells him with a friendly smile, and puts down his coffee. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, it’s time I bump into our guest in the library for a heart-to-heart.”

“Have fun,” Deacon calls after him.

Jemaine won’t have anything to do for a few hours, when he’s supposed to lure their guest into one of the cells underneath the building so Nick can rescue her later. He wonders if he can lock Mel up in a cell for her entire stay. It would be in character for Count Vladislav.

***

Bret feels very nervous when he and Jemaine sit in front of Mrs. Wattlesbrook. They’re all in costume, except Jemaine’s wearing his glasses and Bret can feel Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s disapproval. But she can’t say anything, since Jemaine doesn’t work for her, not even during a crossover booking.

“So,” she says, looking at them both. “You’ve read the script Mrs. Meyer and I have been working on? What do you think?”

“It only takes Count Vladislav a day before he says he likes her defiant spirit,” Jemaine says. “I think that’s too fast.”

“I like how I’m not in it until day 5, when I’m meant to rescue her,” Bret adds, softening Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s glare at Jemaine. “But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to wrestle Jemaine in a lake when we’re in the torture dungeon.”

“Yes, we haven’t got any pools or water down there,” Jemaine says, going through the script until he has the right page. “All the bathrooms are on the ground floor and up.”

“Our guest was very explicit in her request that you two wrestle each other in water,” Mrs. Wattlesbrook says. “And if that won’t work in the dungeon, I suppose that you’ll have to flee with Mel to an upper floor so you can wrestle there.”

“What, in one of the showers?” Jemaine asks, and shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous.” The movement is making his moustache come off.

Mrs. Wattlesbrook glares at him again. “Martin, you will take Mel outside, then you and Count Dracula here can wrestle in the pond.”

“I’m Count Vladislav.”

“I don’t want to wrestle Jemaine in a pond in the middle of the night; we’ll be freezing,” Bret points out. “You can’t do that.”

Mrs. Wattlesbrook smiles. “I think our guest will be more than happy to warm you both up.”

Bret tries not to wince at the thought. “That doesn’t seem period-appropriate?” It’s how he successfully manages to object to Mrs. Wattlesbrook penning in more and more ‘tumbles in the hay’ into the scenarios where the stable boy is a romantic lead. He’s fine with taking the guests out for a trip in a boat and a romantic picnic, and even okay with kissing them in secluded spots in the garden, but he doesn’t want to do more than that.

Mrs. Wattlesbrook remains quiet, then nods. “I will discuss this with Mrs. Meyer. And Martin? Next week we have a guest coming up for you. A Miss Jane Erstwhile, she has the copper package, poor thing. You know what to do, right?”

“Right,” he replies, ignoring Jemaine raising a questioning eyebrow. He doesn’t ask Jemaine how he treats the female guests at Twilightland, and Jemaine doesn’t ask him what it’s like having to be a romantic lead. His first two attempts have been successful enough. Mrs. Wattlesbrook has set up a few situations where he can bump into the guest and exchange banter about how stifling the setting is, and there’s a trick with a supposedly pregnant horse giving birth that he can use to seal the deal, because apparently every woman loves a foal.

The scenario is meant to highlight the contrast between reality and the artificial Regency scenario they’re creating, and Bret has listened to Mrs. Wattlesbrook explain the idea behind the scenario a few times, but the main gist is that he can break a few of the immersion rules so long as the guests are okay with it. No one has complained about him using cheesy eighties love songs in order to woo his assigned guests, so Bret figures he can continue listening to Roxette.

“Also, my nephew will be visiting for that performance. He will be playing Henry Nobley, the Darcy-esque character,” Mrs. Wattlesbrook explains. “I thought, since he is new, you might explain a few things to him about how it’s done around here as well. That won’t be a problem, will it, Martin?”

“No problem at all,” he says. He’s only been here for a few months, but he remembers what it was like, being completely new to everything. “It’ll be fine.”

Jemaine and Bret leave her office, and while Jemaine’s vampire costume is old-fashioned enough not to look too out of place in Austenland, the other staff members do give them surprised looks. The guests are, fortunately, all out for a picnic, and Bret leads Jemaine to the staff entrance at the back of the house.

“Do you think they’ll let us change the script ourselves?” Jemaine asks.

“I doubt it,” Bret says. He knows how strict Mrs. Wattlesbrook is. “Why?”

“Have you seen some of their suggested lines for me? They want me to read romantic poetry to her. Me. Count Vladislav the Poker!” Jemaine lets out an indignant huff. They pass a mirror, and Jemaine notices his moustache nearly falling off, and quickly goes to fix it. “They don’t understand me at all.”

“I don’t see Martin rescuing some woman from an evil vampire either,” Bret admits. “He’d probably run off.” At the most, Martin might be part of the crowd with torches and pitchforks, but that’s it.

Jemaine turns this way and that in front of the mirror, looking very pleased with himself. “I don’t blame you, I am a very evil vampire.” He turns to Bret and bares his fake fangs, hissing at him.

Bret blinks. “Jemaine, you know you’re not actually a vampire, right?”

“Yes?” Jemaine replies, after a very long pause.

***

The only thing that saves Bret from being fired is the fact that Henry Nobley has actually, genuinely, fallen in love with the guest Bret was meant to be wooing.

Jane assumed Bret was real, Henry assumed Bret was a massive asshole, and Miss Wattlesbrook assumed Bret was trying to ruin her business.

On the whole, it hasn’t been the best week of his life, and he’s definitely not looking forward to having to deal with Mel next week.

***

“Bret?”

“Present,” he says. His cheek is still sore from where Henry punched him a few days ago at the airport, but Henry was very apologetic in his email to Bret, and Jane’s feathers have definitely been smoothed. She still thinks Bret is an asshole, but at least it means that him acting like a dick at the airport so Henry could beat him in a fight was convincing. It’s some comfort.

“Jemaine?”

Bret turns to his friend, who is dressed in his Vladislav costume, this time without his glasses. The other employees at the consulate barely gave Jemaine more than a brief glance when he strolled in. “Oi, Jemaine?” He has to nudge him to get a reply.

“Present.” Jemaine is also, for some reason, doing his terrible vampire accent.

Murray shakes his head as he checks off the first item on his agenda. “Well, I’m glad you two could find some time in your busy schedules to come here for a band meeting!”

“We’ve been busy,” Bret says. “With the whole, y’know, job thing.”

Murray harrumphs. “But what if I told you I had a gig scheduled?”

“Do you?”

“No. But I might’ve! And scheduling this meeting was already a nightmare. It was either ‘oh sorry, I can’t, I have to take a nice girl out in a rowboat and then fall in the water’ or ‘oh no, that’s when I’m threatening a young woman with my torture equipment!’”

“Threatening young women is a very important part of my job,” Jemaine says, still in the dreadful accent.

“And speaking of our work, did you know Mel’s booked a stay and wants a crossover?” Bret asks.

Murray nods. “Yeah, I put it in the fan newsletter a while ago, that you two worked in Austenland and Twilightland. Mel thought it was great, especially when I told her it was all about fulfilling romantic fantasies.”

“You told her about our new jobs?” Well, that definitely explains how Mel found them.

“Of course I did! I have to keep the fanbase up to date, and there hasn’t been a lot of news to announce, has there?” Murray sighs. “Maybe if you two work on new songs I could tell the fans about that instead!”

“I have been working on a new song, haven’t you been reading my emails?” Jemaine asks.

Murray nods and looks down at his agenda. “Yes, that was actually the next point on the agenda. Jemaine, all your songs are about wanting to drink the blood of virgins. What’s up with that?”

“It’s just how I’ve been feeling lately,” Jemaine says defensively, folding his arms.

“Well, it doesn’t seem very appropriate to me,” Murray replies, “especially not the bit where you mention iron bars and dark cells. You should go back to something more cheerful, like that song where the robots killed all the humans!”

“Fine,” Jemaine mutters, then falls into a silent sulk.

“Can we go back to discussing Mel’s stay in our theme parks?” Bret asks. He really, really wants to discuss that.

“No, Bret, we’re already past that item, and we can’t go back. You know that,” Murray tells him. “Next item, new gigs. Well, there aren’t any.”

The rest of the band meeting is pointless too, and Bret follows Jemaine outside with some concern when Jemaine hisses at the sun for a moment. “You’re sure you know you’re not a vampire?” he asks.

“Of course I am,” Jemaine mutters. “I’m just… staying in character.” He walks into a lamppost, and rubs his forehead.

“Where’re your glasses?”

“Count Vladislav doesn’t need glasses.” Jemaine glares at Bret, and keeps rubbing his forehead.

“Right.” He should definitely ask Jemaine about this later. “Anyway, Mel’s coming in a week, and we still haven’t figured out how to get out of it. Have you got a plan? Can we lock her up in your torture dungeon?”

“Hm, it’s not a very good torture dungeon. The chains are made from plastic,” Jemaine tells him. “I’ve asked for real ones but apparently Healthy and Safety won’t allow it.”

He supposes that it might be a bit too cruel. “We’ll have to think of something else, then.”

***

He gets a few awkward phone calls from Jemaine about Mel’s stay over the next few days, and how she tried to break into his bedroom on the first night she was there, claiming she was under his thrall. It took Viago and Deacon working together to get Mel to stay in her assigned room. Bret still doesn’t know how he can get out of heroically rescuing Mel and then romancing her with Jemaine, but he’s hoping inspiration will strike at the right moment.

“Oh, there you are, you must be Vladislav’s friend Bret!”

Bret shakes the hand of the friendly-looking vampire who greets him when he enters the vampire castle of Twilightland. “Yeah, I am. Although I’m called Martin over in Austenland. You’re Viago, right?”

“That’s right,” the vampire says. “Come on, Vladislav has got Mella Swan locked up in his torture dungeon, and is about to do unspeakable things to her. You’re ready for your heroic rescue?”

“I guess,” Bret says.

“And armed, I see.” Viago nods at the pitchfork Bret’s holding. “That’s also your stake?”

Bret nods. “I’m first supposed to break it in half in a manly fashion and use it as a crucifix, then free Mel – Mella – and tell her to get out so I can kill Vladislav.”

Viago leads him through the dark hallways of the vampire castle. The cobwebs are a nice touch. “Yes, I heard that he is supposed to survive that so he can chase after you and Mella and recapture you. You know, I’m not sure I understand Mella’s fantasy very well.”

“Me neither.” To be fair, he’s never understood any of Mel’s weird fantasies.

“I mean, I understand wanting to tame the bad boy vampire, but I don’t understand why she also wants the heroic stable boy,” Viago says. “Especially since she also wants the bad boy vampire to torture the stable boy.”

“Wait, what?” Bret stops walking. “I’m not supposed to be tortured in this scenario, we’re meant to wrestle in the lake outside, then Vladislav is supposed to hypnotise me.” No one mentioned anything about torture to him.

Viago winces. “Oh dear, didn’t Mrs. Meyer tell you that? Mella has made a change in her scenario on her first day here. She, er, would like Vladislav to tie you up and whip you a bit. Don’t worry,” he adds, “we’ll use sound effects to make it seem a lot more painful than it is.”

“I’m not gonna let Jemaine whip me!”

“Sssh, we’re not that far from the dungeons now.” Viago gestures for him to follow. “Just discuss it with Vladislav while you’re fighting him off to give Mella time to flee. It’ll be fine.”

It better be.

***

Viago and Bret wait outside the door to the dungeon for a moment, listening to Jemaine threatening Mel with unspeakable torture. It’s not long, though, before Mel takes over and starts talking about how helpless and defenceless she is, and how Vladislav could do anything he wanted. This is followed by Mel dreamily listing the things Vladislav could do, and both Viago and Bret are starting to feel flustered.

“It is terrible,” Jemaine shouts, his vampire accent slipping slightly, “that there isn’t some noble hero coming to your rescue. Right this moment. Mere feet away from us. Ready to save your life!”

“That’s your cue,” Viago says, and pats Bret on his shoulder. “Break a leg.”

Bret nods at him as he leaves, then steels himself. He throws open the unlocked door and jumps in, raising his pitchfork. “Count Vladislav!”

“Oh Bret, you looked so manly when you burst through the door, can you do it again?” Mel asks, who is strapped to a wooden chair in the middle of the torture dungeon. She’s wearing a long, flowing gown with more cleavage than Bret’s used to, and her corset looks more uncomfortable than the leather straps around her wrists.

“Ah, Martin the stable boy, we meet again,” Jemaine replies, and turns to face Bret, dramatically sweeping his cape around. “You will never save Mella Swan, she is mine.”

In the dim light of the dungeon, Jemaine almost looks scary. “No, she’s been my childhood sweetheart ever since we grew up together in the local village,” Bret says. “She’s coming with me!”

“Oh wow, this is even better than I imagined,” Mel says, grinning from ear to ear.

Jemaine does some more dramatic sweeping with his cape, then nods significantly at Bret’s pitchfork. “You’re not even armed.”

“Oh, right!” Bret tries to break the pitchfork over his knee, but even though it’s been built to be broken, the prop is stronger than it looks. “Flip, that hurts!” He has to smash it on the floor to get it to break in two, and it takes him a while before he’s holding up the two halves of his pitchfork as a crucifix.

“Is that all?” Jemaine sneers, tossing his hair back. It’s probably meant to look imposing, but it reminds Bret of the horses over in Austenland. “You will never defeat the great Count Vladislav!”

“Oh yeah?” Bret replies, moving towards Jemaine. “Your reign of terror is over!”

Jemaine steps back, and trips over a metal poker lying behind him.

It’s not part of the script, but Bret decides now is his chance to free Mel. He hurries over to her, who is looking at him with wide eyes and a wider smile. “You, er, should get out of here, Miss Swan,” he says, leaning out of the way when Mel tries to go in for a kiss.

“Oh Bret, you were so brave,” she says. “How can I ever repay you?”

“Uhm, your kindness is enough, thanks,” he replies. The straps are rather fiddly, but he gets them loose eventually. “Now go! Count Vladislav is, er, getting up.”

Jemaine’s first attempt at getting up led to him getting caught in his own cape and falling down again, but he’s standing up now. “Don’t think you can escape me so easily!”

Bret stands in front of Mel. “I’ll hold him off, Mella! I’ll use my, er, pitchfork to slay him.”

Mel wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek. “Don’t be long, my love.” She strokes his hair, then turns to Jemaine. “Please don’t kill him, Vladislav, I know there’s good inside you somewhere.”

“There really isn’t,” Jemaine says, wrapping his cape around himself protectively.

“Save yourself,” Bret says, and pushes Mel over to the door. “Run!”

She stands in the doorway, and looks at them again. “This is awesome. I can’t wait to see you guys wrestle each other in the lake.” She walks off with a massive grin.

Bret sighs, relaxing for the first time in days. “That wasn’t so terrible.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jemaine mutters. “I’ve had to deal with her for the past few days. Have I mentioned that she tried to sneak into my room?”

“You did, yes.”

“Oh. Well, she tried to sneak in my room. And she keeps insisting that she has won over my heart even though I am a cruel and sadistic vampire.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe she thinks it’d only take a day to make me love her.”

“Are you saying you’d rather this took months rather than days?” Bret asks.

“Well. No.” Jemaine sighs. “How long do you think before we have to go after her?”

“We have a few more minutes. Also, Viago said something about how you were gonna tie me up and whip me?” He definitely wants to discuss that. “Because I’d rather not do that.”

Jemaine shrugs. “I don’t know, at least I would actually do that to the stable boy who tried to kill me and take away my prisoner.”

It’s a little worrying that Jemaine’s only concerned with whether or not something is in character for Count Vladislav. “I’m not just gonna stand there and let you whip me!”

“Oh, it won’t be like that,” Jemaine says, and turns around to gesture at a large table with leather straps. “You’ll be lying down when I whip you.”

He’s not doing that either. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, threaten me with the whip?”

“I suppose,” Jemaine replies, running his fingers across the table. “But actually doing it would be more fun.” He grins, and the way the torchlight casts shadows on his face actually make Bret frightened for a moment.

“You know what?” he says, shaking off the brief shudder of fear. “Let’s head outside and jump into a lake.”

“I’ll give you a head start.”

***

The pond outside the castle is only about a foot deep, and Bret yelps when Jemaine tackles him from behind and they both fall in with a loud splash. Bret has to jab Jemaine with his elbow until he lets go so Bret can push himself up to a kneeling position.

Jemaine has got his cape entangled and is cursing at the fabric weighing him down. “You foolish mortal,” he yells, fiddling with the clasp at his neck. “You thought you could defeat me?”

“Get him, Vladislav!” Mel shouts from the lawn.

Bret glances at her, and he’s pretty sure Deacon has just shared his bowl of popcorn with her. “I’ll save you, Mella!” he yells back.

Jemaine has managed to get his cape off, and wipes some of his hair out of his face. His little goatee has also fallen in the water, and his moustache is barely hanging on. “Surrender, Martin.”

“Never, I would rather die than – hey!” He’s shoved down in the water by Jemaine again, and an ineffective shoving match ensues where Bret is mostly concerned about keeping his head above the water. “I’m trying not to drown here.”

“Another reason why you’ll lose, as a vampire I don’t need air,” Jemaine declares, and shoves Bret under the water again.

Bret, when he manages to push Jemaine off him, is more than done with this part of the scenario. He doesn’t care about being tied up and whipped so long as he’s dry and warm somewhere. “Oh, bite me,” he says.

And then Jemaine lunges forward and does.

***

“You bit me.” Bret is holding a towel against his neck, and has a bathrobe wrapped around him. They’re sitting in the drawing room of the vampire castle, still in their sodden clothes, and Viago is fussing over them, having just brought them two big mugs of coffee.

“Sorry about that,” Jemaine replies, huddled in a bathrobe of his own.

Viago brings them both another blanket. “Mrs. Meyer and Mrs. Wattlesbrook are still talking to Mella, by the way.” He tsks at Jemaine. “I can’t believe you actually bit your friend!”

“I didn’t know my fangs were that sharp,” Jemaine says, curling his hands around the mug and muttering under his breath.

Bret glares at him. “You could’ve killed me.”

“I thought the doctor said he barely scratched you?” Viago asks.

“He still made me bleed.”

“Look, it got us out of this scenario with Mel, didn’t it?” Jemaine argues.

Bret considers that. “I guess it did.” He glances at Jemaine. “Is that why you did it?”

Jemaine is quiet for a long time, sipping his coffee. “Yes?”

Bret decides to believe him.

Viago fusses over them some more, bringing them more coffee and offering to sort through Twilightland’s wardrobe for a change of clothes. “We have plenty of capes and billowing shirts,” he says.

“We should probably wait here until our bosses are done talking to Mel,” Bret says.

They have to wait for a long time, but eventually the three women sweep in. Mel is looking rather glum, while Mrs. Wattlesbrook looks like she’d personally like to shove Bret back into the lake and drown him herself. Mrs. Meyer’s face is carefully neutral, and her hands are folded in front of her. “I’m afraid,” Mrs. Meyers says, “that I’m going to have to fire you, Jemaine. Actually biting someone else is against our rules, I told you that on your first day.”

“And you’re fired too, Martin!” Mrs. Wattlesbrook yells. “First that mess with Miss Erstwhile, now this? Are you trying to ruin Austenland? Is that it?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Bret tries.

“It wasn’t that bad a bite, you should’ve kept up with the wrestling in the lake.” She sniffs haughtily. “Not that it looked very convincing.”

“I’ll give you an hour to pack your things, Jemaine,” Mrs. Meyer says, almost apologetically. “I’ll call you a taxi.”

“I’ll have one of the other stable boys collect your things, Martin. You’re not setting foot in Austenland again!” Mrs. Wattlesbrook storms out, followed by Mrs. Meyer.

Mel stands there awkwardly, still in her Twilightland gown. “I’m sorry, guys, I didn’t think your fight over me was gonna get so heated.” She shifts closer, eyeing them both. “So passionate. So intense.”

Bret leans back, half-worried Mel is going to try and bite him. “You know, I should go and get changed. Viago, you mentioned dry clothes?”

“I should pack.” Jemaine jumps up, wrapping himself in his bathrobe. “Bye, Mel.”

Bret stands up, and Viago takes his arm. “I’ll show you where the wardrobe department is, Bret,” he says kindly, patting his hand.

“I think I’d like a cape,” Bret mutters as Viago leads him out. Jemaine’s cape looked pretty cool.

***

“Jemaine?”

“Present.”

“Bret?”

“Present.”

Murray looks at them both. “Nice to see you looking like your usual self again, Jemaine.”

“It’s nice being able to see again.”

“And as for you, Bret, what’s with the cape?”

Bret huddles into his chair, his cape rustling. “It makes me look cool.”

Murray sighs. “Well, it’s better than the eyepatch, I suppose.” He raises his pen. “But no biting anyone!”

“Fine.”

“Right, next item. Gigs. I still haven’t booked you any, but at least now that you no longer have jobs, at least you’ll have time for them!”

Bret wraps his cape around himself. They might not have any money, or any gigs, but at least he got to keep this cape.


End file.
